BYU Cougars Football Players Allege NIL Cuts Left Them Stranded

BYU Cougars football players once saw NIL as a path to financial stability, but it became a source of frustration and uncertainty for some.

Rather than providing consistent support, the school’s officially endorsed collective, Royal Blue, allegedly wielded NIL payments as leverage — delaying payouts, slashing salaries, and leaving players feeling disposable.

Instead, what was meant to empower athletes became a stark reminder of the unchecked influence collectives hold in the NIL era, where financial promises can vanish overnight with little recourse.

Former Cougars Crew Wakley and Isaiah Bagnah recently spoke out about significant NIL pay cuts Royal Blue imposed before the 2024 season.

According to the players, what was once a structured compensation system was abruptly gutted, leaving them scrambling just as the new season began.

The issues reportedly started in December 2023 when monthly payments — usually distributed around the 15th — suddenly stopped arriving.

Some players initially thought it was a clerical error. But as the transfer window closed without any payments hitting their accounts, many began to suspect something else was at play.

Bagnah claims that payments were intentionally delayed until after the portal closed, effectively discouraging players from leaving since they would lose out on the money they were owed.

Then, once the offseason began, Royal Blue delivered another blow.

At a team meeting in January, new collective leader Min Kim made his stance clear.

“I’m not here to pay your rent or bills. I’m not here for any of that. You guys are entitled, greedy, asking me for money,” Kim allegedly told the players, per the Salt Lake Tribune (subscription required).

What followed was a sweeping reduction in NIL compensation.

Starters allegedly saw their payments slashed by over 50%, while many walk-ons were cut off entirely. Bagnah, who was in the second pay tier, had his monthly stipend cut by $700.

Players were told to sign the new agreements or forgo NIL money altogether.

To make matters worse, Wakley and Bagnah say the collective inserted a non-compete clause into the new contracts, barring players from pursuing their own NIL deals that didn’t align with Royal Blue. This restriction was particularly damaging for walk-ons like Wakley, who didn’t receive the same financial support as scholarship players.

Even after players raised concerns, Royal Blue leaders allegedly promised a fall renegotiation period that never materialized.

Wakley, a regular starter at safety, says he was told he’d be “taken care of” if he earned a spot on the two-deep depth chart — but nothing changed.

While BYU’s football team endured these cuts, its basketball program made headlines for securing a massive NIL deal for No. 1 recruit AJ Dybantsa.

The timing of this high-profile signing only further fueled resentment among football players, who felt they were being undervalued despite competing in the Big 12, one of the country’s top football conferences.

The BYU situation highlights a growing concern in the NIL space; collectives, which were meant to empower athletes, are instead wielding outsized control over their financial futures.

Without transparency, oversight, or enforceable contracts, players can find themselves in situations where promised compensation vanishes overnight.

As NIL evolves, the question remains: Who, if anyone, is looking out for the athletes?

The House v. NCAA settlement is set to introduce revenue sharing, which could shift some of this power from collectives back to schools.

However, even that model has limitations.

For now, BYU’s story serves as a warning; stability is never guaranteed in a world where collectives dictate NIL money.